Jack Pimpkin is about to hear the history of Halloween in a way it's never been told before. That’s because the curious young boy has turned to the only person in the world who supposedly knows the truth…his dad. From a rural town in modern day New England, the creative father weaves together an intricate bedtime tale involving long-lost villages and unforgettably unique characters, including a race of reptilian warriors and the ominous Pumpkin Man.

Banished from the safety of Hallow, timid Hazel must survive The Demon Forest, on a journey to locate the mythical city of Salem. Unfortunately, harsh conditions and violent creatures stand between her and her goal. Told of her plight, another young boy braves the elements in a quest to bring her home. Armed with a little magic from an unlikely source, he too finds the dark woods a formidable foe. Can either of them make it back? It's unlikely. The odds, and hungry wolves, are stacked against them.

A fast paced, mystical story, The Secrets of Hallow is filled with moments of tragedy and triumph. Jack Pimpkin learns a host of life lessons along the way as the dark twists and turns of his father's fantasy lead him to a real place—one much scarier than anything he ever imagined possible.

Excerpt

Hazel’s mind emerged into a foggy state. She heard repetitive squeaking noises and murmuring voices, but couldn’t quite grasp her whereabouts. Her hands tingled and sharp pain found her neck after every swallow. The agony she felt grew with each second of increased awareness. When her eyes finally popped open, she immediately realized the seriousness of her predicament. Squealing sounds she had heard came from the restraint device’s wooden wheels as they rolled along a cobblestone street. The murmuring voices turned out to be nothing more than ogling spectators who had gathered to catch a glimpse of her. Unable to fully concentrate, she somehow noticed that every person in Salem dressed exactly alike. They all wore black robes, and women sported an added accessory in the form of a tall, cone-shaped hat. The scene looked rather creepy. Hazel had really stumbled upon a very bizarre society.

The torturous parade through town seemed endless. One guard pushed her along, while four other men provided an armed escort. After halting the procession before a sizeable building, the vilest guard wheeled her inside and down a long corridor. Unlike dwellings in Hallow, Salem’s structures had been erected using stone blocks. Hazel had never seen such architecture, and the intimidating atmosphere created by cold granite walls only added to her suffering.

The guard pushed her into a spacious room. It reminded her of Hallow’s trial chamber, only on a much grander scale. Masses of robed Salemite dignitaries lined up in anticipation of Hazel’s arrival as she rolled through the crowd to face a three-man panel. The men sat next to each other on an elevated platform, stone-faced, behind a long table. The audience, who’d been taunting Hazel with words like “demon” and “devil,” grew silent as the center man rose from his chair.

“I’ve been told you call yourself Hazel Witch of Hallow? he asked, staring at her captive face.

“My…family…name is…Witch…en…” Neck pain cut the sentence short.

“And you came here from a place known as Hallow?”

Hazel nodded slightly, acknowledging that fact.

“There we have it for all to see! An admitted devil lives among us. I see no need for any trial. Punishment shall be determined right away. I’ll consult with my brethren and then pass sentence upon this guilty wench at once.”

The head judge and his two silent colleagues disappeared from the room for a short conference. Crowd murmur once again resumed in the form of horrible insults. Hazel had been blindsided by her sentence in Hallow, but she prepared for the worst this time.

Audience noise ceased as the three men returned to their seats. They stared directly at the suffering girl’s face, apparently spiteful of her very existence. The head judge once again stood and spoke.

“Many years ago, a hellion came to this land, bent on infesting our society with evil. He called himself Arthur of Hallow, and was sentenced in this very room to be stoned to death in Salem’s eastern cemetery. Through Satanic wizardry, he escaped after being hit with but a few rocks. Only a disciple of hell could have moved with such fleet steps. We cannot take a chance that a demon shall escape us yet again. It's our decision that you shall be moved to the same spot, which now lies outside the great wall, and be burned alive—sent back home the same way you entered this world. Birth by fire—death by fire.”